


Second Hand Works Best

by temporalDecay



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dreambubbles, F/M, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, M/M, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-21
Updated: 2012-09-21
Packaged: 2017-11-14 17:58:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/517984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/temporalDecay/pseuds/temporalDecay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's not him, and she's not her, and they're not who they want each other to be.</p><p>But they're dead and lonely and gone, and it makes sense in the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second Hand Works Best

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a friend during a fic prompt meme in plurk.

The first time you run into him, you've been dead a whooping six hours and you've spent all of it screaming and tearing at your dream-hive with your claws. You've barely managed to scratch the surface of your feelings - rage, despair, hatred - but he's _there_. And before you can process the fact he's wearing a God Tier hood or that he's _dead_ , he's hugging you. His arms around your shoulders, claws digging into the back of your coat. It's a desperate hug, like he's trying to push you into his body and hide you inside his bones. It's crushing and raw and it _hurts_. 

It hurts. 

It hurts because you've wished so long to be held that way. Because it's real and warm and more than you've ever thought possible. Because you're dead. 

"I thought I fucking _lost_ you again, where the fuck did you even go?" Karkat's voice is muffled because he's buried his face into the curve of your neck, and you think, clinically, that the way he breathes the words into your skin does indeed make your whole skin raise in little bumps, as if from cold. 

It hurts so bad, because you know in your heart of hearts that this is not for you. 

"Karkat--" 

"Shut up!" He's angry and vibrant and desperate and now his hands are holding up your face, glassy white eyes staring down at you so hard you can almost imagine what they'd look like, if alive. He presses his forehead to yours. "Jesus fuck, Nepeta, I thought you _died_." 

A small laugh warbles out your throat. You want to kiss him. You want to sink your hands into his hair and muss it up. You want to cry. You want to scream. 

You want Equius. 

"I _am_ dead, Karkat," and your voice is soft and silly and so, so sad. 

He snorts, acid and annoyed and it breaks your heart in a thousand different ways, how beautiful he is. He is Karkat, after all. Just like yours, except not really. Someone from a doomed timeline, maybe, you're not really good at the whole Time thing. It doesn't matter. You know it's not the Karkat you know, but it's still Karkat, and you still pity him more than you know how. You pity him so much you could probably pass off as a heroine in one of his beloved romcoms. And wouldn't that be a sight? 

"Fuck, I know that! I know." He runs a hand through his hair, ruffling it. That makes another soft, choked laugh fight hysterically in your throat. "...I was scared, alright? Remember what happened when Gamzee got lost in one of Vriska's memories and--" 

You realize you're growling, loud and feral. You realize you're baring your teeth in a snarl worthy of any of the beasts you once killed and skinned, in life. You realize you don't really care because he just broke the spell with a single word. You remember. 

Gamzee. 

Gamzee killed you. Gamzee killed _Equius_. You saw him do it, saw him grin as your moirail fell dead to the ground, smiling. And you could do nothing. You couldn't even avenge him. The anger roars again, licking the insides of your skull like a feral, hungry beast, and the wounds reemerge as you wallow in the memory. Your body breaks itself as Gamzee broke it with his clubs, green splattered everywhere, and you don't care because you're so _angry_. 

Karkat, who is Karkat but not _your_ Karkat, gives a step back, staring at you in equal measures horror and pity. It's the pity you really can't stand. 

"Nepeta?" He swallows hard, giving another step back. "Leijon, get it the fuck together!" 

You want to tear, to rend, to slash, to claw, to gnaw, to _kill_. You need your moirail to perch on and claw at and know you will not hurt him, because nothing ever hurts him. He's solid strength and comforting words and when the wildness in you gets out of hand, he's always there for you. Nothing ever hurts him, not even when you lash out and pounce on him claws first. Nothing ever hurts him. You need Equius so badly right now, you can feel the threads of your mind unravel one by one, and you can't have him 'cause he's dead, dead, _dead_. 

You sink to your knees and let out a yowl of despair and rage, because you're dead and your moirail is dead, and none of this is even remotely fair. 

And then someone's hugging you, warm arms around your shoulders as they pull your face into an unfamiliar chest. 

"I can't believe you're fucking making me _shoosh_ you," Karkat whispers, hoarse and unsteady. His voice shakes almost as much as his hands, but indeed, he shooshes you. 

He fucking _shooshes_ you. 

It's even more horrifying because it works. Or at least the shock of it is enough to snap you out of the rage. 

"You're not my moirail!" You snarl, crying now, because you always cry after you're done being feral and 'uncivilized', like Equius likes to say. 

Equius. You want Equius so _badly_. You're wailing now, clinging onto Karkat's shirt, hating yourself for it. 

"It's okay," he fingers your hair, and you wonder where your hat even went, and you want him to never stop, "I get the feeling you're not my matesprit either." 

You cry harder at that, because the universe is an unfair bitch, but he doesn't let you go. He doesn't let you go. Even when you quiet down into soft sobs. Even when you quiet down completely. He doesn't let you go. You are entirely selfish and stay still, even as he starts pressing soft, pitiful kisses to your brow, down the side of your face. You pull away and don't find out what it's like, to feel his lips on yours. He sits back then, and you don't meet his eyes. 

"I'm not your matesprit," you whisper softly, and you tell yourself it's okay. You don't let yourself think about the fact there was a timeline where he felt that way about you. You don't let yourself think about the fact that timeline was obviously doomed. 

He looks so _sad_. 

"Fuck, I... I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I just..." 

He absconds. You don't stop him. You curl up in the torn memory of your hive, staring at your feet. 

You want Equius. 

  


* * *

  


"She wasn't." 

And there he is, looking up at you from white, empty eyes, still clad in that silly God Tier hood that makes him look so stupidly pitiable and you would worry you're mixing your quadrant wants except you don't hate _him_ , you hate the idea of him. Him you find as pitiful as your own Karkat, except in odd, mismatched ways. He's not yours, but he's still Karkat. You figure he probably feels the same way about you, which is why he hasn't left your dreambubble even after you made a mess of yourself. 

"My matesprit," he says, and you don't really know what to say to that, so you stare some more. "She really wasn't my matesprit. Not... not officially. Like on the Wall or anything. I died before... well. I was a fucking stupid nookstain who obviously fucked it up. Because it's apparently what I fucking do and even being some kind of fancy fucking god doesn't change that one fucking miserable bit." 

It really isn't fair, just how much you pity Karkat Vantas. 

"I'm sure she feels the same," you tell him, quiet and just a little bitter, because... well, because you do, and she's you and-- 

"No, she doesn't," he whispers a little hopelessly, and you want to crawl inside his bones, appoint yourself guardian of that sheer broken heart of his. "Maybe... maybe when she was alive, but I died and she didn't and when she _did_ die, she'd already moved on. And then I stuck my foot down my goddamn chute and started sucking on my fucking toes like the stupid wiggler I am, until I got her well and fucking pissed off. Enough she stormed off, and by the time I went after her, we'd both gotten lost." 

"You thought I was her." 

"Yeah." 

You pounce him. Half in revenge for his outrageous shooshing, half because you want to. He rolls flat on his back as you perch on him, staring him down and shaking your head. 

"It's okay." 

It's okay, because you're dead and the dead don't change. You can feel it, feel the way you are going to stay as you are, forever. Your feelings and your memories... they remain, they _are_ you. You're both dead and unchanging and it's a truly hideous thing you're thinking, Nepeta Leijon, you dare not even give it voice. 

"Teach me," you tell him instead, telling yourself this is all you want to say. "How things work here. Teach me." 

You know Karkat and you know Karkat cannot function properly unless he's _doing_ something. So he might not be your Karkat, but he's still a Karkat, and he still relaxes visibly at a chance to be the leader he's always been meant to be. You've decided to go out and look for your moirail, and Karkat is kind of hoping to find his, and the idea of running into Gamzee - _a_ Gamzee - makes your skin crawl, but he's right. Sticking together is probably the best you could do. 

You tell yourself it's all about logic, rather than the hideous, filthy thought fluttering inside your skull. 

Together, you go. 

  


* * *

  


If you've been needing Equius desperately, he hasn't been all that better off without you. When you find him - and you know he's yours, feel it in your bones, know it in your soul - he's still caught in a perpetual loop of that moment. Karkat is horrified, watching a deranged, violent version of his moirail strangle Equius over and over again. He actually tries to shoosh him, a few times, before it sinks in that Gamzee is a memory here, not an actual... ghost? You'd worry about proper terminology for your current state, but it's the sixth time in a row you watch your moirail die and you can't take it anymore. 

Karkat absconds the moment the yowl works its way out of your throat, huddling inside his hood and looking keenly uncomfortable. 

You'd care, you'd really care, except Equius needs you and you need him so much you can't bring yourself to care about anything else. The world narrows down until it only barely manages to fit you two, and you growl and hiss and pap and shoosh and cry and hold, and by the time you're done, you're both lying on your pile back in the lab and you nuzzle up against the underside of his jaw while he runs his hands down your back, ever so careful, minding his strength. 

"I am so, so sorry," Equius rumbles quietly, whispering the words into your hair. "Did I hurt you?" 

"No, but it was godpawful," you mutter sullenly, but you're making puns again, and you don't feel like you want to tear the world apart at the seams because it's so _unfair_. 

Equius knows, too, he always knows. He rumbles a sound of reproach - _language_ , you know - and growls a little louder when you giggle, breathless and just a tad hysterical, utterly unrepentant. You're dead and he's dead, but you're together again, and suddenly nothing else matters, because you've always known you can take anything, absolutely anything, so long as he remains the corner of strength and restraint he's always been. Life before Equius is like a distant, foggy dream you can't really remember, you're sure Death without him will soon seem the same. 

"Stop lurking in corners like a veritable disgrace, Vantas," he snaps suddenly, pulling you closer, and you laugh when Karkat chokes on air. 

You can't help but laugh a little, when he starts blushing, embarrassed and irritated. The resulting spat is almost fun; novel and familiar all at once. This is not the Karkat Equius knows, and he's slightly off balance as a result. Meanwhile, Karkat is a lot sharper, a lot nastier than you expected. But maybe that's something they all have in common and you never worked the nerve to get close enough and find out. It's odd and maybe you shouldn't find it entertaining, but you do. 

You end the argument by the sheer power of cuteness which you wield without mercy until they're both too distracted to be stupid. Pounce taught you well. 

  


* * *

  


When you find Gamzee, Karkat's Gamzee, you still want to tear his throat out with your teeth at the sight of his horns, especially given how Equius keeps staring at him with a longing you refuse to recognize. Gamzee lifts Karkat off the ground with ease, pulls him close and ignores the screams of profanity as Karkat protests the treatment. He's like the Gamzee you thought you knew, too clumsy to be gentle, perpetually amused at everything, not a single wisp of malice in his entire being. Just like the Gamzee you know, before he turned around and killed you both. You keep your body from breaking at the seams by sheer stubbornness, but Equius's neck is darkening again and his breathing is turning shallow. 

"I ain't want to be no assuming shit, motherfuckers," Gamzee says, pressing the words to the crown of Karkat's hair, still refusing to let his moirail go. You feel annoyed and sad, because you understand the feeling perfectly, you kept yourself perched on Equius' shoulders for what felt like forever after you found him again. "But this motherfucker be thinking you ain't the strong bro and the kitty sis I be getting all my knowing of." 

"No, Highblood," Equius murmurs before you can squeeze a sound around the spiked ball stuck in your throat. 

"Bitchin'," Gamzee grins, putting Karkat down and attempting to move towards you, possibly to hug you. 

Attempting, because you're on him before Karkat can finish spluttering and Equius gets enough of his wits back to stop you. Gamzee cries out and stumbles back when your claws hit his face, and then Equius is holding you by the scuff of your cloak, looking scandalized. Karkat pulls Gamzee back to him, and you snarl as he curls up with a confused whimper until he fits neatly into Karkat's lap. 

"This is such a fucking mess," Karkat remarks to no one in particular, frustrated as he fingers Gamzee's hair and tries to calm him down. 

You hiss in agreement, because it's all just so _unfair_. 

  


* * *

  


You all share stories and try to piece together where your timelines split off. The little changes start piling up into big differences, and it all doesn't make much sense to you, but Equius is intrigued. You learn Karkat ascended soon after his meeting with Jack Noir, when his greeting stabs got a bit too stabby for comfort. In their timeline it was Vriska who lost it when she realized they couldn't win, and you can't help but feel a little vindictive glee in the way Gamzee keeps trying to hide inside Karkat, when the topic of their deaths comes up. They never even got close to beating the game. You get a small, savage thrill in the way Gamzee keeps putting Karkat between him and you, but it's empty like everything else. You're all dead and in the end it doesn't matter. 

"So this is it," Karkat tells you one night - or what passes off as a night in this place - staring at the landscape through empty white. "Death." 

A little further away, Gamzee is digging in the sand, chatting animatedly with Equius. You hum in reply to Karkat's words, but don't take your eyes off them. Equius forgave Gamzee about the same time he died, in the first place, and he has no real scorn for this one, either. But you can't help it. 

"Quit that," Karkat grumbles, reaching a hand to tug at your coat, "no one's going to hurt Equius. Except possibly me if he starts asking about my fucking hood again." 

"I _know_ that," you say, but you don't stop watching. Instead, you pounce on his earlier comment. "It's pawsitively boring, being dead." 

"Yeah." 

You don't look at him from the corner of your eye, because Gamzee has pulled out a chest out of the sand and he's motioning Equius to come share whatever is inside. You don't look at him from the corner of your eye, because you have already memorized the way the hood frames his face and how the spikes of his hair look, squished against the fabric. You don't need to look at him to feel another pang of longing. He's been very good about it, you not being his Nepeta. It doesn't make it better, but it makes it bearable, at least. He's never asked you about your feelings for your Karkat. 

It feels like you've been dead forever and a half, but the feelings remain the same, the good and the bad, and that nameless, horrible thought keeps fluttering about, being a nuisance. 

"I've been thinking," he begins, then stops and snorts. "Well, no. Gamzee has been nagging me into thinking." You hum again, until you feel him tug at your coat and you finally tear your eyes away from where Gamzee is trying to make Equius drink some god-knows-how-old faygo. You look up at him and blink when you realize he's blushing. But he's also looking down at you, so intently bit by bit his eyes fill up with amber and reddish grey. "I--" 

You can't take this. You can't. And the hideous unnamed thing coils in the back of your head, because you've thought of this. You've imagined it. Your lower lip starts to tremble. 

"I'm not her," you whisper, with all the willpower at your disposal, "I'm not her _replacement_." 

He looks taken aback, and with his eyes actually looking alive, he looks hurt and sad and indignant and angry. 

"I don't _want_ a fucking replacement!" 

You fantasized about kissing him. You've fantasized about it since you were four. But for all your fantasies of clumsy fingers and small gasps, or dashing smiles and giggly swoons, you never expected him to grab you up and kiss you with the same intensity of his usual anger. It's raw and snarly and not very romantic, and it's so perfect it makes your knees all woobly. In the distance, you hear the sound of someone slipping and spluttering and then that grating, honking laugh. You kiss back just as hard, the flare of irritation at Gamzee only serving to make your entire body tense. 

"Wow," Karkat breathes after a moment, once you part and you're both breathing hard. "Holy shit, _wow_." 

You can't help it, you laugh. You break down giggling, airy and hysterical and this is so, so wrong, because he's Karkat but he's not your Karkat. And you're Nepeta but not his Nepeta, and somewhere the world broke down and fucked itself over sideways, but you're all dead or doomed or worse. 

"That was---" 

"Purrfect, yes." 

And as you wink at him, eyes suddenly amber and greenish grey, almost alive-looking, you can't help but bask in the sound of his laughter, spluttering and reluctant as it might be. Everything is wrong: you're dead and he's doomed and the world is acutely unfair. 

But you'll deal with it, and make the most out of what the afterlife has in store for you. 


End file.
